Rescue Me
by eeveekitty85
Summary: It should have occurred to him before. London. 2012. The chance was small but it was still there, and the barmaid looked familiar. It's been done before but R&R anyway.


**Rescue Me**

**Notes: **Yeah, I know it's been done, but this just wouldn't leave me alone. Oh the angst! The uncontrolled shippiness and lover-ly, lover-ly angst. Enjoy. I say to you all: Puccini! And I also say: How's my blood? And then I conclude with: How can you miss me? I'm the guy with two hearts, remember?

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

It was a dive, no two ways about it. But he needed alcohol, and this had been the closest place. He'd never favoured Earth alcohol before but it was better than none. He'd had a hard day. People had died. It was usual, but it still hurt. Alcohol offered an easy way out.

The whole place reeked of smoke even with the supposed smoking ban. The stench clung to the smokers' clothes just like it always had done, and they brought it wherever they went. The glasses were all slightly smudged with grime. The Doctor tried to balance on the wobbly stool as he ordered a beer, and was rewarded with a pale looking liquid that was mostly froth, complete with suspicious brown floating bits in it. But he wasn't here to criticise the beer, so he paid.

Life was an endless cycle of planet saving these days. Very much like it always had been, but when exactly had it become a chore? No, he wouldn't answer that. In fact, if he didn't think about the question at all, he could completely ignore the answer.

So it wasn't really that much fun, but someone had to do it. Without him, it wasn't unrealistic to claim that the Earth would be overrun with aliens, it's people dead or enslaved. Or it wouldn't be there at all. The story was the same for many planets. He had to keep doing his job.

'_The cosmos without the Doctor scarcely bears thinking about.'_

It should have occurred to him before. London. 2012. The chance was small but it was still there, and the barmaid looked familiar.

_All the make up that you wear can't hide the flaws_

Screw not looking back, it was hard not to see her now. He didn't quite know how to feel, what to think. He'd blocked out the part of him that would know because it had begun to hurt…oh, such a long time ago. But what was she doing, working here? He felt himself fuming at the injustice of it all. She could dodge their filthy wandering hands, she seemed to endure their crude comments. He found it unbearable to watch, but somehow he couldn't tear his eyes away.

This was his fault. This was what he'd reduced her to. They weren't good enough to scrape the mud off her shoe, and neither was he, not anymore.

She was rubbing her eyes, pausing for just a moment where the Doctor could see her properly. How many years had passed? Two, three, four? He couldn't remember exact dates. He didn't even know what day it was. She looked so tired, so sick and tired and fed up and he wished he could take her with him again. What remained of his pride insisted that he would not make himself sound desperate. It didn't matter if he was.

He couldn't ask anyway. He wouldn't put her in that position.

He kneaded his forehead, telling himself not to open his mouth, to stop looking. _How many times do you need to push her to the brink of death? _

He kept watching. She looked so much older. Had he done that to her, or was it this place that had added the lines around her eyes, the tired creases on her forehead? She looked straight at him for a moment. The spark was gone from her eyes. What had done that? That look was almost desperate, just as desperate as he was. She was crying out to be rescued.

Jo had left because she'd found a husband. Tegan had left because it had stopped being fun. Some, like Adric, had died, and it scared him to think how often they had been in situations where that could have happened to her.

Rose had left because he'd kicked her out, left her stranded on Earth with only a worthless TARDIS key and her memories to keep her company. No matter how many times he tried to justify himself and tell himself that it had been for her own good, he could never make up for that. He'd ruined her life.

_I've hurt you I can see_

_Do you think it's not hurting me?_

She didn't recognise him. Of course she didn't. He was in his eleventh body now, a thin unimpressive man who looked just like everyone else. He never stood out in a crowd. His clothes were plain, and with his taste for adventure diminished, his personality was weaker. She wouldn't know him from Adam. That almost made him smile. Somewhere a younger version of him and Rose would be kicking another Adam out of the TARDIS. 2012. While a catastrophe in Utah was avoided, the rest of the world carried on as normal. A boy was left at home with a hole in his head but no one here would know or even care.

He cared. Not for Adam, but for her. He wished he could give her the Universe again, but he cared far too much. It was impossible, a no-win situation. God, he'd denied it so many times, to her, to himself, but he'd fallen in love with this girl. And that was far more dangerous than any other situation he'd been in before. Dangerous to her. Dangerous to him. Dangerous to the Universe.

And settling down with her had never been an option. She deserved so much better. She deserved a normal life with a normal husband, even if at the moment it looked a bit crummy.

Or perhaps he just couldn't bear the thought of watching her grow old and die. If he allowed himself to get that attached there would be no going back, and how would he ever survive when she was gone?

_You'll meet other men_

_Who will break you heart_

_If I see you with them_

_It's gonna tear me apart_

_Maybe in another life_

_We wouldn't be alone tonight_

_I've hurt you I can see_

_Do you think it's not hurting me?_

It was better this way. He had to believe that because that was all he had left to believe in. He drained his glass quietly and prepared to leave the bar.

As he stood in the doorway, he heard jeering and catcalling from the corner. Rose ignored it, holding her head high, not letting their suggestive remarks touch her. The Doctor was glad that she could handle herself.

"Oh Rose," he murmured softly before he could stop himself. She turned, looking at him again as if she'd heard. She studied him quizzically for a moment, then smiled. He smiled back, relieved to see that there was no recognition in hers. Putting on the hat he'd worn so long ago in his fourth body, he nodded at her. The hat used to add to his eccentricity. Now it was as old and battered as he felt.

"Don't let them get you down," he said quietly, so only she could hear. "You're better than that."

"What are you, a psychic or something?" she said, laughing, and her voice was exactly the same as ever. He laughed back. For a moment he was back in the TARDIS with her and Jack, laughing at Mickey's bemused face as they showed off. An unstoppable team who would split up days later.

He caught himself quickly. No. This wasn't why he was here, and it was already time to leave. "Just an ordinary man of course," he said with a forced brightness that left her looking puzzled. "Look after yourself Rose."

He'd left before she could realise that she hadn't told him her name. It wasn't his job to rescue her anymore.


End file.
